


Black

by momotastic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blind Character, Blind John, Blindness, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momotastic/pseuds/momotastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been over 14 months since he became blind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freezerjerky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/gifts).



> This is an extremely late birthday ficlet for Lindsey, aka freezerjerky. I told her I'd probably write her a little something if she gave me a prompt, and because blind!John is one of her favourite things, it's what she asked for. So here we are.
> 
> Christina earns all the beta credit, as usual.

It’s dark outside. Not that it matters to him anymore. It’s always dark nowadays.

John turns over onto his right side.

He has been tossing and turning for hours now, thinking about the accident, about his life since then. It’s been over 14 months since he became blind. He navigates everyday life well now, and only needs Sherlock’s assistance occasionally.

Of course he can’t make scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast anymore, or cook pasta for dinner. Even if he learned how to work around the stove, it’s too dangerous if anything happens out of the ordinary. He knows that with more practise and proper equipment he would be able to cook proper meals for himself again, but it’s not worth the effort and money to have a blind person friendly kitchen installed if all he wants to cook are eggs and pasta.

He rolls over onto his back.

If only Sherlock would stop tiptoeing around him. Ever since the explosion Sherlock has been overly cautious with John.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the care or comfort, but it’s weird to have Sherlock so attentive.

Right after it happened Sherlock was panicking more than John. It was a strange situation. In that moment when the glass splinters hit him, he had known with absolute certainty that he would never open his eyes to see again. It had still hit him hard when the diagnosis was confirmed by various specialists.

Sherlock though had gone through some of the stages of grief. At first he didn’t want to believe that it could be true. No matter how many doctors John consulted, no matter how many times it was confirmed that John’s vision would not return unless through a miracle, Sherlock didn’t want to believe it.

After that he became angry. Partly at medicine for not being more advanced, but mostly at himself for not being more careful. While John promised himself to never blame Sherlock, Sherlock blamed himself all the time.

Finally he accepted what had happened. John had hoped that with the acceptance of the situation, Sherlock’s abrasive nature would return. It hadn’t. Sherlock never once raised his voice at John, and always told him where he went and what he intended to do there. He even sometimes went to Tesco. It was driving him up the wall.

John turns onto his stomach, hoping that he’ll be more comfortable like this.

He has learned to live with the blindness. He goes wherever he likes, buys groceries by himself, rides the tube some days, and continues to write his blog. He even goes to crime scenes with Sherlock. He has to sit out the wild chases across the city of course, and he told Sherlock to take his gun now that John can’t fire it himself anymore, but at least the pitying comments from the yarders have stopped after a while.

All in all his life hasn’t been compromised too much, and John is grateful for modern technology that allows him do most of the things he did when he was able to see.

And still, at night, when the flat has gone silent and when John’s alone up in his room, he can’t help but think.

He turns back onto his left side and sighs heavily.

On nights like this he notices the small part of himself that wishes he could still see. He’d be able to watch realisation dawn on Sherlock’s face, and the elated look he has when he figures something out. John could watch him while he plays the violin, or when he types away at John’s computer – which he never takes anymore.

He misses Sherlock’s glares whenever John was slow to catch up, or when Mycroft came to visit.

John hasn’t cried since he got shot in Afghanistan, and he’s still denying that it happened then. However, now, in the middle of the night, when John, for the very first time, admits to himself that he misses Sherlock ridiculously beautiful face above everything else, he lets the tears come. Because the truth is that John has been in love with Sherlock long before he lost his eyesight, but was never brave enough to say anything. Now that he’s blind and Sherlock so cautious, there’s no chance John’s going to say anything. Even if Sherlock returned his feelings, John would always wonder whether it was genuine or out of guilt.

His watch beeps once, and John knows it’s one in the morning. He curls in on himself even further.

In the dark of the night, when it makes no difference whether he can see or not, John dreams of what his life would have been if he could still see.  


End file.
